Mon Petit Tchoc
by Galadriell
Summary: AU, Non-Magic. Dr. Harry Potter never thought he would return to his desert home. Circumstances bring him back years later and he must conquer his fears. Draco Malfoy is his reluctant guide. ORIGINAL STORY BY TAMI HOAG: LUCKY'S LADY. Harry/Draco slash
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter and I give all the credit for the characters to J.K. Rowling. I don't own the plot to this story and I give all the credit to Tami Hoag.

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><p>Harry Potter stood outside the rundown pub, shading his eyes from the harsh sun. On his back was his pack and his hands were full with three more bags – survival kits. Being back in the desert brought back memories. Not ones that were particularly spectacular. He glanced at his watch, noting the lateness and the temperature. He shouldn't be outside for too long. He stared at the beaten door for a moment longer before dropping his bags in the shade of the porch and walking in.<p>

Compared to the patrons of the bar, Harry was a sight to see. Fitted with the best jumpsuit money could buy, sunglasses and military grade boots, he looked every inch the doctor he was. Meanwhile, the men in the bar wore nothing but ragtag and worn down protective vests from twenty years ago and pants that couldn't possibly have passed the safety tests of the West coast. Harry wrinkled his nose at the smell of cheap liquor and urine. He looked past the stools towards the bartender. Stepping over bottles and unidentifiable clumps of what could either be mud or horse manure, Harry reached the filthy counter that the grisly man was wiping down with an even filthier rag.

"I am in need of a guide," he said, talking over the hum of the three fans that were buzzing around the room.

The man eyed Harry with an amused expression, running his eyes up and down the foreign attire. "I'm sorry, sweetheart? You want to go into the desert?" he asked, arching a brow.

Harry pulled off his aviator helmet, wiping the sweat off the back of his neck. "Yes. Me," he said coolly, clipping his sunglasses into the front of his green jumpsuit. "I was told I would find the best here. An odd sort of a name."

"I'm afraid he is not for sale," the bartender chortled.

Harry wasn't used to being talked to this way. The West coast was chic and sophisticated. It was where Harry belonged. Being in the desert for less than two hours was already starting to wear on his nerves and short his temper. The heat was not something Harry could bear. "I need to get out there _tonight_," he said with considerable amount of tension and authority in his voice. "And if I can't find a guide here, I am willing to take my money else-"

"_Merde_! I cannot do anything with that pile of scrap."

Harry gaped at the man who walked in with a gust of heat and sand. Pulling on a simple shirt with half sleeves and absolutely no UV grading, he was made pure muscle and dominance. Even with his body hidden under the dirty white tee, his devastatingly handsome body was not something seen anywhere. It just wasn't feasible in the atmosphere the world had plunged into over the past hundred years. The man was over six foot five from the looks of it, broad shoulders tapering off to a narrow waist that was hidden under black pants. His long platinum blond hair was tied to the back with black silk, a strange material Harry saw only in the hands of the wealthy. With sharp features and unusually pale skin, Harry could imagine more than a few women who would swoon at the sight of him.

Draco Malfoy kept his stone mask in place despite the lurching he felt in his stomach when their eyes locked on. But before he could let his emotions take over, he eyed the slight doctor carefully. He took in the shock of black hair, fringes that were plastered to skin by sweat. He memorized the bright green eyes and expression of slight superiority. His gaze raked over the pursed lips and sophisticated attire. He did not see a flicker of recognition in the emerald eyes. All he saw was casual indifference.

"Ah, here's your beloved _guide_," the bartender smirked, waving his hand with a flourish at Draco. "This young man requires your assistance, Malfoy."

Harry snapped out of his silent and embarrassing inspection, pulling himself up to his full height. He was still dwarfed by Draco in more ways than one. "Dr. Harry Potter," he introduced himself. "I need a guide to take me out to the desert."

Draco blinked once. Harry Potter.

Harry faltered when he saw the smile of poison and honey. "I am no guide," Draco murmured, his voice lilting of more than one accent. "And I take no one into the desert." He grabbed the glass of water the bar keeper held out to him, swallowing it in one gulp. He kept his eyes on Harry, appraising him

"I am willing to pay," Harry offered, noting how silken Draco's voice sounded. It matched his raw demeanor quite well.

"I have no need for your money," Draco answered, moving away without another word and walking to the door.

Harry clicked his tongue in frustration as he followed Draco out. "I need one trip. It is a one way trip."

"Death wish?"

"What does it matter?" Harry asked incredulously, walking out into the blinding sun. He slid on his sunglasses, absently wondering how this man wasn't dead from overexposure.

Draco walked down the steps of the pub, walking towards the stables that doubled as automobile garages. He slipped through the door, careful not to spook the horses on his way to his sandcraft. Harry waited outside, absently fingering the communication pod in his pocket as he wondered if he should just get out while he could. All he would need to do is give one call to the transportation services and he would be back in the hospital in a matter of hours. He could handle hospitals – clean, controlled, quiet, and cold.

He heard soft revs and the squeal of metal on metal. He assumed Draco was readying the machine for travel. "Why do you want to go?" Draco asked over the noise.

Harry sighed despondently, his headache blooming. "I am looking for someone," he called out.

"Who?" Draco asked, walking the hovering sandcraft out of the garage and towards the fences that stood a few meters away. The edge of the desert.

"My godfather," Harry said, walking quickly to keep up with Draco. "Sirius Black."

"That old coot?" Draco asked in shock, staring at Harry. "He is your godfather?"

"You know him!" Harry exclaimed. "I-is he… he's alright, then?"

"Guns me down every time I bring him supplies," Draco muttered, turning his attention back to steering his vehicle.

"But then you know where he lives!" Harry said. "I need to find him. He's the one I need to talk to."

"Desert is not safe for a boy like you," Draco said dismissively as he reached the large iron gate and parked his sandcraft. "_Tête dure_," he added under his breath as he leaned towards the dash and flicked on the button. A large tarp swung over the top of the boat-like structure. It was the only source of protection he would get once he was on his way into the thick and stormy desert.

"I don't need you to tell me where I can and can't go," Harry glowered.

Draco whipped around with unparalleled speed, causing Harry to back up against the gate. "Trying to intimidate me?" Draco asked huskily with narrowed lids. Harry saw hostility in the mercury grey eyes. He could smell grease and sweat from how close they stood. Draco was much too close… "You are not in your villa anymore, _mon petit tchoc_," he whispered, pressing the palms of his hands against the pitted metal as he trapped Harry in a makeshift cage.

Harry tried to keep his voice even as he said, "And I assure you that intimidation does not work on me either."

A spark was lit in the smoldering eyes. "Oh?" Draco asked, his gaze trailing down Harry's neck and lingering against the collarbone that was exposed. A hint of cologne played against skin. Grey eyes slid up to meet green.

Harry pushed Draco away quickly, feeling dizzy from the heat. "Are you going to take me to him or not?" he asked. Draco was mildly impressed at Harry's composure. Always so put together and condescending. "Because I don't need to lower myself to the likes of you for a favor."

Draco seemed ready to send back a biting reply but he reined himself in. He turned away and picked up the equipment in the back of the craft, packing them under the bench. "You will not reach there before nightfall. And we cannot drive after nightfall," he said. Harry was about to voice his exasperation but Draco interjected by saying, "But I will take you."

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><p><strong>What do you think? So, if you can't tell, this takes place in sort of post-apocalyptic years. And it's going to be very... Harlequin. If you have read the original novel, you will know what I am talking about. Anyway, I have written a couple different chapters all based around the this small bit but set in different times. I think this one came out the best.<strong>

**And I know some of you will wish that I had switched Harry and Draco's characters. I don't really have a reason for why I picked which one played who. I guess a beefed up Malfoy is a real turn on in my subconscious... My not-so-'sub'conscious. XD**

**In the Tami Hoag novel, the story is set in the Louisiana bayou and Serena Sheridan is trying to find her grandfather in the swamp. Lucky Doucet is her guide.**


	2. Chapter 2

"I will take you."

Harry's shoulders slumped in response. He took deep breaths to calm himself down before pulling his shoulders up and inhaling deeply. Everything was going to be alright. He cast a wary glance at the hovering sandcraft in front of him. "On this?" he asked.

"I am so sorry I couldn't prepare a chariot," Draco drawled.

"Do you insist on speaking like this?" Harry asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to think.

Draco pushed the stray strands of hair out of his eyes, saying, "Only way I know how to speak. Besides, I'd have figured an intelligent man like you could keep up. You seem to enjoy proving me wrong."

"I'm surprised you know intelligence when you see it," Harry jeered.

"Said you were intelligent. Not useful," Draco retorted easily. "You are of no use to me, _mon cher_." Damn Black for having heaven-sent godsons. "Not unless you are naked under me, anyway," he added as a sordid after-thought, inspecting Harry's lean body.

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He also couldn't believe what he was imagining. The vivid images made his heart pound. "I need a guide. Not an escort service," he snapped, fists clenching and voice shaking with either anger, desire, or both.

"I've never had to force anyone," Draco countered, his velvet voice sliding over Harry. "And I have a feeling I won't ever have to." He noted the muscles in Harry's jaw clenching. He had struck a nerve. "What's the matter?" he asked, quirking a brow. "Need that escort service already?"

Harry flicked his eyes away, breathing heavily as he kept his temper under check. "You are a rather nauseating man, Mr. Malfoy," he muttered vehemently.

"I try," Draco said, stepping away. "Let's go."

"Now?" Harry asked out of astonishment.

"No, whenever his highness orders," Draco said under his breath. "Yes, now."

"But I-I just got here." Harry glanced back up towards the pub. "My bags," he gestured vaguely.

"_Feet pue tan_! Bags?" Draco asked in disbelief.

"I didn't stop anywhere. I'm straight from the hangar," Harry tried to explain. Draco huffed and muttered angrily to himself as he stalked away towards the pub. Harry sighed in response, taking out the cooling rag from his back pocket and wiping his face down with it. He had gotten this far. He glanced out at the desert. It was treacherous and highly volatile. Besides the animals that lived in the wild, the dunes could shift without the slightest warning. One could easily be buried under tones of sand during the sandstorms.

But Sirius was living in the middle of it all. Along the edges of the desert, where the trees grew, there used to be a lovely vacation home. Harry didn't know the condition of the farmhouse he had grown up in now. He hoped Sirius stayed safe.

They hadn't kept contact after Harry's transfer to the seacoast. He hadn't seen his godfather in years. In fact, he hadn't even known that Sirius was missing. That is, until he received a phone call from his brother, Matthew, who brought the issue to attention. Harry learnt that Sirius had stormed out of the house in the desert town after a disagreement. He hadn't been back for months. Harry had always been close to Sirius. But years had caused them to drift apart. But Harry saw Sirius as his own father in many respects. He had to find his godfather. Never mind the fact that he was also silently cursing Sirius to hell for making him do this.

Draco slung the bags into the craft unceremoniously, jumping on with ease. He noticed Harry staring off into the depths of the desert with faraway eyes. "Get on," he growled, snapping Harry out of his reverie.

Harry started and looked up at Draco. Then down at the sandcraft. He was trying to figure out how to get on.

Draco rolled his eyes as he bent down and grabbed Harry by the arms, hoisting him up onboard. In his panic, Harry grabbed onto Draco's shoulders. Draco marveled at how light Harry was as he held the man steady. Harry stared at Draco, now eye-to-eye since his feet were dangling by Draco's shins. Draco could feel Harry's fear as though it were tangible. Desire touched Draco's stomach tantalizingly as he scanned the lips in front of him. "Oh, I'm every bit as barbaric as I appear," he said, feeling slightly breathless at being so close to Harry. "Planning on analyzing me?"

The fear turned to cold disgust in an instant. "Let me down," Harry said with a controlled breath, pushing away. Draco set the doctor down. Harry put more distance between them, legs shaky from the slight swaying of the hovercraft. "Besides, you need neutering. Not analyzing," Harry added, wanting to get the last word. Draco piqued a brow as he pushed Harry onto the bench. Harry sat down quickly, clutching the edges of the seat with white knuckles. It was one thing to be flying in an airplane. It was entirely different to be in a sandcraft, waiting to be thrust into the deadly desert.

Draco wasn't paying attention to Harry, his eyes trained up the way to the pub again. "Stay," he told Harry, jumping out of the vehicle.

"Wait, where are you going?" Harry asked, watching Draco walk up the knoll.

"Bar."

"Bar?" Harry huffed. "We were just in there," he said to himself, dropping his head.

When Draco strode into the pub with purpose, the tension was apparent. He scanned the bar, spotting Vince Crabbe. When Draco sat down, Crabbe barely acknowledged him. "I thought we had an agreement," Draco murmured.

"We have _many_ agreements now, don't we?" Crabbe asked, gulping down his rum in one swig.

"I heard you've been working behind my back, Vince. You know how much I hate backstabbers, don't you?" Draco asked smoothly.

"And you know how much I love money, don't you?" Crabbe countered, turning to face Draco as his hand fell to his pocket. He was fast but Draco was faster. He had Crabbe's wrist in his calloused hand in no time, twisting it back.

"I don't want any blood in here," the bartended interrupted quickly.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Draco muttered, keeping his eyes on Crabbe who was grimacing in pain. "No more runs to the desert, you hear me?"

"You can't tell me what to do," Crabbe grunted.

"I might not. But my gun has a mind of its own," Draco threatened, standing up with Crabbe's cracking wrist still in his hand.

"Malfoy," the bartender groaned in despair.

"Fuck off," Crabbe hissed.

In a fluid motion, Draco had pulled out his hunting knife and pressed it against Crabbe's throat. "That is _my_ land and I don't take well to rats that scurry in it," he said heavily.

"That's enough, Malfoy," a loud voice said with fierceness. "Put that away before I have to shoot you."

Draco stiffened as he put his knife back in his pocket. "If you were doing your job, I wouldn't have to do it for you, would I?" he asked, turning to face Malcolm Baddock who had his gun out. "And is this what we pay you to do? Sit around and drink all day?"

Malcolm Baddock was an officer from the Department of Wildlife and Hunting. A rather poor officer at that. His plump face turned to puce quite quickly. "You paying taxes would be a hoot," he scorned as he marched towards the men. "So you can just shut your trap."

"Is that any way to talk to a civilian?" Draco asked patronizingly.

"I don't take well to threats," Malcolm said.

"And I don't make threats, _cher_. You know that," Draco said with a smirk.

"You don't scare me," Malcolm said, trying to stand taller than he was despite having several limitations when compare to Draco.

"That's what happens when you drink your brain away," Draco said, tsking mockingly.

Malcolm looked ready to stomp his foot and throw a tantrum. But he holstered his gun and with a final glare at Draco he started dispersing the crowd that had formed around the confrontation.

"You are no-good bastard," Crabbe muttered, gnashing his teeth as he massaged his sprained bone.

"Don't you forget it," Draco said, turning to leave. He cringed inwardly when he saw Harry standing with his wide green eyes and ashen complexion. Draco hurried over to the doctor. "I told you to stay in the sandcraft," he said quietly.

He was a poacher. A criminal. Harry's brain short circuited. "I… I… I-"

"Harry? Harry Potter?" Malcolm asked, catching the men's attention. "What on Earth are you doing here?" He threw a dirty glance at Draco and asked, "Is he bothering you?"

Harry flicked his eyes at Draco. If anything, this was his chance to get out of whatever he had gotten himself into. But he couldn't find his voice, still trying to comprehend what he had just seen. Draco scowled at Malcolm, shooing him away. "He's with me," he said, pressing a hand to the small of Harry's back and moving him away. Malcolm didn't know what to do, simply watching after the two helplessly. "You know that guy?" Draco asked.

"He's a family friend."

"Thought you would have classier friends than that buffoon," Draco said under his breath.

Harry looked at Draco incredulously, wondering how on Earth the man thought he was qualified to talk about 'classy friends'. "What were you doing?" he asked.

"Business," Draco answered as he opened the door to let Harry out.

Before Harry could argue, he heard a slight whistle in his direction. "What did I tell you, boys? First class, eh?" a group of grease-faced mechanics chortled, their eyes lingering on Harry as though he were a piece of meat. "I've got something you can check up on, doctor." Harry closed his eyes in frustration. When had the desert village gotten so crude and uncouth? When the catcalls stopped without warning, Harry opened his eyes again and saw the men looking past him.

Harry's shock increased tenfold when he felt Draco's arm wrapping around his waist – not lewdly but rather protectively. "Your mother never taught you manners?" he asked quietly, making Harry shiver and quelling the men. Never mind the fact that the five burly blokes could have taken Draco on in a fight. Harry figured all of them had, at some point, had the pleasure of meeting with Draco's hunting knife. The mechanics hurried away without another word. Harry allowed himself to be herded back to the sandcraft without protest.

Draco didn't let go until they were at the fences again. His mind was racing. He had made a promise to Sirius and damn it if Harry was going to make him break it.

"Look," Harry said suddenly, stopping. "I think I'd better find another guide to take me out to Sirius. You seem quite busy."

"No," Draco said before he could help himself. He was spewing swears in his mind. Why should he care if Harry found another guide? "I know of no one else who will take you," he said. "I don't know what you heard in there or what you saw, but just forget it."

"Rather hard to forget," Harry said, wondering what Draco was getting at.

Draco slid his hands into his pockets, looking above Harry's head. "I don't care what you think of me. Just so you know, you'll get to the camp in one piece. I won't feed you to the snakes or bury you alive or anything. Black's an old friend."

Harry gaped at Draco. He saw the slight blush on the man's high cheeks and the sheepish expression. If Harry hadn't seen the man in the bar, he would have actually thought Draco looked quite cute. About as cute as a menacing wolf looked, but cute nonetheless.

"I'm surprised," Harry murmured.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "That I won't feed you to snakes?" he asked.

"That you have a friend," Harry smiled bitterly as he heaved himself back up onto the sandcraft.

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><p><strong>I took some of the dialogue from the original text. The things LuckyDraco says are just too priceless. Anyways, hot enough? Nudge, nudge, wink, wink**


	3. Chapter 3

Before Harry could get any further, his communication pod vibrated. Surprised that he could get a signal in the primitive village, he scanned the number, recognizing it as Chateau Cran. "Hey," he answered.

"Oh, thank goodness," Matthew Potter sighed.

Matt and Harry were twins. And while Harry ran away from the desert, Matthew had stayed on. Now, with a wife and two children, he lived in the once marvelous Chateau Cran. He had taken over the plantation duties, which seemed to give him an odd disposition that made him think that he was significantly older _and_ wiser than Harry.

"Um… I talked to you a couple hours ago, Matt," Harry said, narrowing his eyes.

"What on Earth are you doing with Draco Malfoy? You were supposed to come home!" his brother shouted.

"How did you hear ab-"

"Do you have any idea what his reputation is?" Matthew interrupted. Then he broke off to yell, "Settle down unless you want another time-out," to his boys.

Harry waited until Matthew was back on the line and said, "Well, you aren't doing anything about Sirius! So it's up to me now, isn't it?"

"You're going out into the desert, for God's sakes, Harry," Matthew snapped.

"Someone has to do it. If he's off sulking, the least I could do is give him a piece of my mind," Harry argued.

Matthew bristled at the way his brother had said that. "It's not as though I don't have a life, Harry. I can't just up and leave everything here to find him," he said in an affected tone.

Harry closed his eyes tiredly. "I know," he murmured.

"Just… I don't think you should go. That's all."

"I'll be fine. I'm fine, okay? Say bye to the kids again?"

"Yeah."

"And tell Gin I'll talk to her when I get back. Lawyers and all," Harry add as he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," Matthew mumbled.

"Bye." Harry clicked his tongue in exasperation, pushing the device back in his pocket. Then he noticed Draco watching him intently. "What?" he asked.

"I didn't say anything," Draco murmured, turning back to the dash and increasing the power to the thrusters. "Whoever that was had quite a bit to say, though."

Harry felt sweat tickle the back of his neck and he swiped at it. The sun was something he would never get used to. "My brother. Seems to think I'm still a child," he vented. "I have half the mind to tell him to bugger off right about now."

"I can think of far worse things to say to him," Draco muttered under his breath.

Harry was confused when he heard hints of that statement. "You know Matt?" he asked, leaning forward.

Draco didn't comment, his expression closed and cold.

"Jeez, it was just a question," Harry said under his breath.

Draco opened the gate with a pull on the lever beside the fence. He yanked the tarp over the rest of the craft, leaving the inside cold and dim. A plastic and net mesh was the only way Draco could keep his bearings. Seated in the only seat up front, Draco took the wheel comfortably. Harry was left with his racing thoughts and hammering heart as they set out towards the heart of the sand.

The sound of the engine overpowered everything else. Harry couldn't hear the gusts of wind or the crackling of sand crystals as they flew over the terrain. Draco loved it here. It was peaceful and he was left alone in his world. He had lived all his life in the desert and he planned of dying here if he could help it. He had no use of anyone else and no one else had any need of him. Neither man talked.

The miles of sand had always intimidated Harry. As he looked out the 'windows', he saw knolls and dips of gritty sand that could blind a man or suffocate him. Patchy and dry shrubs grew, but the craft moved too quickly to take notice. On some of the boulders that looked like mountains sat rundown cabins and dilapidated houses. No one lived in these areas anymore. Not unless they were hunters or intense adventurers. Harry wondered which one Draco was. He heard a soft croon of the _Crocuta crocuta_ – the spotted hyena. The unfortunately ugly mug of the animal had always unnerved Harry. It disturbed him to the point of nightmares that Matt and Sirius had been quick to laugh at.

As they pulled through twists and turns, Harry fought to remember the way back. With his knuckles white and clenched against the edge of the seat, he tried desperately to find landmarks and identifiable trees. But the problem with the vast dirt was that it all looked the same.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Draco asked, "What's the matter? Afraid of being blown up?" as he swerved the craft with a leer.

Harry stiffened considerably, swallowing hard. He was _not_ about to show Malfoy that he was afraid. "No," he said curtly even though his tone said a clear 'yes'.

Draco scowled, offended. "I made this myself. It can handle anything the desert throws its way," he said with a haughty sniff.

"Is that what you do?" Harry asked hopefully. "Build sandcrafts?" He hoped to heavens that it was. Although, judging by the gear that was stowed under the seat, that didn't seem to be the case. Harry could make out wire traps, guns, a case of bullets, a sack of what looked like bait, and fuel. Everything a poacher would have.

"No," Draco said without further explanation.

"Then what do you do?" Harry asked.

"Whatever I want," Draco murmured.

"Living the life," Harry drawled sarcastically.

Draco felt his blood boil uncharacteristically at this wayward comment. What right did this man have to judge what he did? In fact, why would Draco even want to associate himself with a snob like him? After all he had done to Draco, how could he-

But this was Harry. Not Matthew.

Draco's eyes flitted towards the mirror that was sitting on the corner of the dash. He could see Harry clearly reflected in it.

They look so alike. Twins. Same blood, same ruse. Draco pushed down the memories that resurfaced. Not the same but similar. Harry seemed more distant. Cold. Aloof. Matthew had a ready smile at hand. A warm and predatory smile. Harry appeared naïve in contrast. He didn't hide behind a smile. He kept his disposition at the surface for everyone to see. Looking out for himself and only himself.

"If you are afraid of the desert, why are you here?" Draco asked suddenly, trying to figure out Harry's ulterior motive. He didn't understand why Sirius had never talked to him about his godchildren.

Draco saw Harry's jaw clench. "I'm not afraid," the raven-haired man said. "I just need to find Sirius."

"Ran out of your inheritance money?" Draco asked with derision.

Harry bristled at the wayward comment. "I am paying you to be my guide. Not to speak," he said stiffly. "That is all I need you to do."

"Hmm," Draco mumbled, shaking his head to himself.


End file.
